On the Road
Week 2:
Airlie Beach
Late Friday night I finally managed to solidify my plans with Chris and Carrie, two friends from Atlanta. Let me just make a suggestion to anyone travelling abroad, use calling cards (note the plural). International calling cards are great; a meager 1.7 cents per mintue to call the States, though that's where the value ends. Try calling long distance in Queensland and suddenly you are paying through the nose for the mere privelage of picking up the phone. Out of 14 attempted calls, only two connected and I was about ready to try a telegraph office. Do youself a favor and get a domestic long distance card as well.
With a new destination on the horizon it was time to break camp. Packing up and leaving the comfort and familiarity of my home away from home created a bit of apprehension yesterday. There is the slight fear that where you are headed isn't quite as nice as where you are now. Certainly would have been easier to make tracks if Tane and Lee hadn't been so magnanimous; home cooked meals, tours of the city, an explanation of the game of cricket (no small feat there). The trivial tasks of laundry and packing helped to keep me occupied for the day.
With all my gear loaded in the car Saturday morning (minus the cycle, just not enough time to warrant lugging it around), Tane, Lee and I headed out for a last "Hoora" in the city. In this case the hoora was a metro market. Its been a long time since I've been to a city market, and recollecting the incredible Saturday markets in Hawaii (tropical fruits, fresh fish, ornate jewelry) I was eager to stock up for my trip. You never know when you need a dazzling necklace and a pound of avacados.
-A little seguay here- there is a raging debate going on in the shop where I am typing this. It reminds me of the Clinton scandal and the great "definition" debate. Except here, its a debate of the definition of "private". Someone booked a trip on a boat with "private" accommodations (not to be confused with accommodating privates like out former president), but the boat has a shared bathroom, which they find unacceptable (can't say I blame them for $1800). The situation certainly didn't get any better when the insults started to fly. Its like watching Judge Judy. Wish I had some popcorn.-
What a market it was. I don't even know what to compare it to. I'd say its a bit like the St. Dennis church bazaar back home, but that would be insulting to the St. Dennis bazaar. Imagine a small wharehouse with three aisles filled with the hokiest, cheapest, worthless knick-knacks. It was a graveyard for Walmart, K-Mart, and gas station chinz. Except of course for the swords. I don't know if they were smuggled off the set of Lord of the Rings or forged by the master smithys of Brisbane. I'd have got some for the guys back in Atlanta, but they would've probably poked holes in my pack, and then the small matter of security- they are nearly as dangerous as nail clippers. Sorry guys.
After a leisurely lunch at a great bakery in the West End, Tane and Lee (swordlessly too) escorted me to the bus station. I think it was as much an act of goodwill as it was to make sure that I was actually leaving town.
Why take a bus? I'm actually asking myself the same question now. Why did I actually opt for a 1500km, 17 hour ride? At the time of booking I thought it would give me an opportunity to at least catch a glimpse of some places I wouldn't be able to visit. Just stepping on board and catching a whiff of that faintly fruity, faintly chemical, all nauseating bus smell was enough to wash away my romantic illusions. It certainly did give me an appreciation of the great expanse of openess of the country here, and for fresh air.
It also gave me an appreciation for my own motor vehicle. What I would've given to have either my truck or motorcycle over here, this is the terrain both were designed for. It would have made stopping at some of the inviting small towns much easier. And I can't forget to mention Mini-Europe. Probably along the calibre of "The World's Largest Ball of Twine" and other such highway distractions, but I would have loved the chance to eclipse the Eiffle Tower, leap the Arc de Triomphe or right the leaning tower, instead it was just a mommentary reprieve from the constant blur along the way.
When on the bus you have plenty of time of time for senseless activities. Unlike one of my bus-mates who passed the time with bi-minutely trips to the bathroom (can you say "junkie"?), I had some time to count my change. Low and Behold! just a handfull of change here is $10! Closer inspection revealed $2 and $1 coins. They are decpetively small, at least for a trained American; I don't bother with anything that isn't silver right off the bat, and then dimes and nickles are tossed into a change bin. A costly mistake here. The also have the familiar range of coins; 5, 10, 20, 50 cent pieces, though the 1 cent is thankfully absent. Intersting little currency tid-bit here: Australia was the first country to move away from paper notes to a plastic polymer. With clear plastic windows in the corners of the notes, it is some of the most complicated to counterfit. The USA has failed to follow suit despite widespread counterfitting for one great reason- Tradition!
And the penchant for round things doesn't end with the coins. How Aussies love their roundabouts! They are nearly as commonplace as traffic lights, and used anywhere one can be squeezed in. I've even seen one on a main road that runs straight through with only a vacant deadend side street joining the rotary. I'll bet if I were to confess my town is so small it doesn't even have a roundabout, it would illicit gasps of disbelief and pity.
So for 17 hours, that's about all that ran through my head. Well, in addition to a thought near the end of the trip that I actually prefer the fruit stank to the unbathed backpacker stank.
And now I still have a few hours to explore Airlie Beach before I meet up with my friends who are out on a boat. Sorry, pics may have to wait until I find a suitable computer.
A special note the ones who worry, I'm camping at Koala's Resort.
Airlie Beach
Late Friday night I finally managed to solidify my plans with Chris and Carrie, two friends from Atlanta. Let me just make a suggestion to anyone travelling abroad, use calling cards (note the plural). International calling cards are great; a meager 1.7 cents per mintue to call the States, though that's where the value ends. Try calling long distance in Queensland and suddenly you are paying through the nose for the mere privelage of picking up the phone. Out of 14 attempted calls, only two connected and I was about ready to try a telegraph office. Do youself a favor and get a domestic long distance card as well.
With a new destination on the horizon it was time to break camp. Packing up and leaving the comfort and familiarity of my home away from home created a bit of apprehension yesterday. There is the slight fear that where you are headed isn't quite as nice as where you are now. Certainly would have been easier to make tracks if Tane and Lee hadn't been so magnanimous; home cooked meals, tours of the city, an explanation of the game of cricket (no small feat there). The trivial tasks of laundry and packing helped to keep me occupied for the day.
With all my gear loaded in the car Saturday morning (minus the cycle, just not enough time to warrant lugging it around), Tane, Lee and I headed out for a last "Hoora" in the city. In this case the hoora was a metro market. Its been a long time since I've been to a city market, and recollecting the incredible Saturday markets in Hawaii (tropical fruits, fresh fish, ornate jewelry) I was eager to stock up for my trip. You never know when you need a dazzling necklace and a pound of avacados.
-A little seguay here- there is a raging debate going on in the shop where I am typing this. It reminds me of the Clinton scandal and the great "definition" debate. Except here, its a debate of the definition of "private". Someone booked a trip on a boat with "private" accommodations (not to be confused with accommodating privates like out former president), but the boat has a shared bathroom, which they find unacceptable (can't say I blame them for $1800). The situation certainly didn't get any better when the insults started to fly. Its like watching Judge Judy. Wish I had some popcorn.-
What a market it was. I don't even know what to compare it to. I'd say its a bit like the St. Dennis church bazaar back home, but that would be insulting to the St. Dennis bazaar. Imagine a small wharehouse with three aisles filled with the hokiest, cheapest, worthless knick-knacks. It was a graveyard for Walmart, K-Mart, and gas station chinz. Except of course for the swords. I don't know if they were smuggled off the set of Lord of the Rings or forged by the master smithys of Brisbane. I'd have got some for the guys back in Atlanta, but they would've probably poked holes in my pack, and then the small matter of security- they are nearly as dangerous as nail clippers. Sorry guys.
After a leisurely lunch at a great bakery in the West End, Tane and Lee (swordlessly too) escorted me to the bus station. I think it was as much an act of goodwill as it was to make sure that I was actually leaving town.
Why take a bus? I'm actually asking myself the same question now. Why did I actually opt for a 1500km, 17 hour ride? At the time of booking I thought it would give me an opportunity to at least catch a glimpse of some places I wouldn't be able to visit. Just stepping on board and catching a whiff of that faintly fruity, faintly chemical, all nauseating bus smell was enough to wash away my romantic illusions. It certainly did give me an appreciation of the great expanse of openess of the country here, and for fresh air.
It also gave me an appreciation for my own motor vehicle. What I would've given to have either my truck or motorcycle over here, this is the terrain both were designed for. It would have made stopping at some of the inviting small towns much easier. And I can't forget to mention Mini-Europe. Probably along the calibre of "The World's Largest Ball of Twine" and other such highway distractions, but I would have loved the chance to eclipse the Eiffle Tower, leap the Arc de Triomphe or right the leaning tower, instead it was just a mommentary reprieve from the constant blur along the way.
When on the bus you have plenty of time of time for senseless activities. Unlike one of my bus-mates who passed the time with bi-minutely trips to the bathroom (can you say "junkie"?), I had some time to count my change. Low and Behold! just a handfull of change here is $10! Closer inspection revealed $2 and $1 coins. They are decpetively small, at least for a trained American; I don't bother with anything that isn't silver right off the bat, and then dimes and nickles are tossed into a change bin. A costly mistake here. The also have the familiar range of coins; 5, 10, 20, 50 cent pieces, though the 1 cent is thankfully absent. Intersting little currency tid-bit here: Australia was the first country to move away from paper notes to a plastic polymer. With clear plastic windows in the corners of the notes, it is some of the most complicated to counterfit. The USA has failed to follow suit despite widespread counterfitting for one great reason- Tradition!
And the penchant for round things doesn't end with the coins. How Aussies love their roundabouts! They are nearly as commonplace as traffic lights, and used anywhere one can be squeezed in. I've even seen one on a main road that runs straight through with only a vacant deadend side street joining the rotary. I'll bet if I were to confess my town is so small it doesn't even have a roundabout, it would illicit gasps of disbelief and pity.
So for 17 hours, that's about all that ran through my head. Well, in addition to a thought near the end of the trip that I actually prefer the fruit stank to the unbathed backpacker stank.
And now I still have a few hours to explore Airlie Beach before I meet up with my friends who are out on a boat. Sorry, pics may have to wait until I find a suitable computer.
A special note the ones who worry, I'm camping at Koala's Resort.
posted by Vit-One at 9:40 AM
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